


Even Masks Can Get Fevers

by hipbonesofChrist



Category: Watchmen - All Media Types
Genre: Cold, Cuddling, Defensive, Fever, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Sickfic, Virus, Vomiting, protective
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-03
Updated: 2016-08-09
Packaged: 2018-04-12 19:01:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4491075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hipbonesofChrist/pseuds/hipbonesofChrist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of oneshots in which different members of the Watchmen get sick.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Rorschach

**Author's Note:**

> "You're a human, Rorschach. You do get fevers."
> 
> "Don't get sick. Ever. Ugh..."
> 
> "Did you just throw up?"
> 
> "......No."
> 
> "Oh, for the love of..."

"Need to find informant."

Rorschach and Nite Owl prowled the winter streets in ARCHIE, looking for a troublesome, cutthroat gang. It had been a slow night, and Rorschach was getting impatient.

"You already said that." Dan sighed, scrutinizing the scanners. "I'm looking. Why aren't you?" There was no answer and the brunette turned around. "Rorschach?"

The masked man was sitting completely straight upright in a chair, apparently thinking of something else. His facial expression was unreadable through the mask, but Dan could tell his usually stubborn comrade was in some discomfort. His mask was blotchy and ever-changing as always, but... There seemed to be wet spots on the blotched, white fabric, at Rorschach's brow and forehead.

Dan reached for the heat controls. "If you were too hot, you could have said something —"

Rorschach reached out a hand to stop Nite Owl. "Don't. Not too warm. Fine." He said. His voice was gargling and grating as always, but now that Dan was looking at his friend, really scrutinizing him, he realized the ginger's voice was...strangely hoarse. At that moment, Rorschach sniffled and held a gloved hand to the bump on his mask where his nose generally would be. Then it hit Dan.

"Rorschach...are you...sick?"

The other man spun to Nite Owl with such a fury, you'd have thought Dan had shocked him. "No. Don't be silly."

“You know you’re a regular man. You have the same immune system as --”

“Don’t patronize me. Fine.” Rorschach insisted.

“Okay...” Dan allowed. He turned back to the front panel of controls on ARCHIE and turned the heat down anyways when Rorschach wasn’t paying attention.

“You turned heat off.” Minutes later Rorschach was standing ominously behind Daniel, fists balled. He would have looked menacing if not for the fact that he was trembling.

“You are sick.” Dan said. He would have chuckled but something in the way the other man was standing told him that doing that would get him dropped down an elevator shaft like Captain Carnage.

“Am not.” Rorschach reached around Dan and pressed the button he assumed would heat ARCHIE. Wrong button - a jet of flame exploded from ARCHIE’s front, melting snow and sending water raining down onto the city below.

“Okay, enough of this. We’ll catch the informant later.“ Ignoring Rorschach’s half-hearted protests, Dan turned ARCHIE around and started home.

Serves him right, Nite Owl was thinking the whole way there. Insisting he doesn’t need more layers on, wearing that goddamned mask every day, god knows what germs he’s picked up in that thing...does he even wash it? He had to hold back a shiver of disgust at the thought, even though Rorschach struck him as an organized, neat, if apathetic, man.

“I’m making you some food, okay?” Dan said as soon as the duo had stepped out of ARCHIE. Rorschach shook his head and started for the tunnel, but he stopped dead as Daniel grabbed his arm. It was shaking, just like the rest of him.

“This is bullshit, Rorschach. I’m making you dinner. No beans. An actual dinner.”

“Why eat Chinese food every night if you can cook?” Rorschach asked, voice breathy.

Shit...he really had been keeping tabs on me. Dan shook his head.

“I...I don’t know, just stop patronizing me and get upstairs.”

“Wasn’t.”

Dan put a pot of water on the stove and poured pasta in it. Then he steeled himself and set about completing the hardest task; getting Rorschach to take his mask off.

“Rorschach.”

“No.”

“Don’t be like that. I’m not eating dinner with you looking like that.”

“Not taking my face off.”

“You’re going to eat pasta sauce...with your clean, white mask on your face?”

Rorschach paused. “Make something else.”

“No, we’re having pasta. You can’t live on beans.”

“Yes, you can.”

“Rorschach -- ” Dan stopped short as the man stood up, somehow threatening although not even reaching Dan’s height.

Here we go. Hello, elevator shaft.

But Rorschach just bent his head. “Men’s room.” He said. It took Daniel a moment to realize it was a question.

“Oh.” Dan said, and pointed. Rorschach grunted his thanks and disappeared into it. Moments later, there was no toilet flush, only running water in the sink. Dan speculated that Rorschach was trying to cool off, and he knocked lightly on the door.

"You're a human, Rorschach. You do get fevers."

The water shut off rather hurriedly. "Don't get sick. Ever. Ugh..." The toilet lid slammed up and Rorschach groaned, albeit trying to be as quiet as possible.

"Did you just throw up?"

"......No."

The man’s insufferable! Now he’s lying to me outright! Dan almost cracked a grin at the man’s stubbornness.

"Oh, for the love of..." Dan hoped Rorschach hadn’t locked the door, and he tried the handle. Unlocked; the man must really be sick.

“Don’t.” was all Rorschach was able to choke out before Dan stood in the bathroom, looking down at his partner. The smaller man was knelt in front of the toilet, mask in one hand, the other balled into a fist on the floor. His red hair was flattened down by the mask and by the sweat dripping from his brow. His dark eyes were glassy, but he still managed to look annoyed as Dan knelt beside him and handed him a washcloth.

“So now, you’re going to try and tell me, right to my face, that you’re not sick?” Dan asked.

“Guess not. Not now.” Rorschach answered. Even without reading his facial expressions Dan could tell that the man was miserable.

“Okay, skipping the pasta. Where are you staying tonight?”

“Home. Apartment.”

And god knows that that looks like. Dan thought. He knew this was unorthodox, but…

“You’re staying here tonight…?”

Despite his fever, Rorschach looked amused. “Asking or telling?”

“Uh...telling. You’re not staying at your apartment, wherever that is, tonight. You’ll kill yourself.” Dan could see it now, Rorschach telling Daniel he was going home, only to don his “face” again and troop around the city looking for that damned informant.

“Fine.” Dan wished he could slap the amusement out of the bastard’s voice at the exact same moment that he realized he was blushing hard.

"Daniel?" Rorschach asked hoarsely.

"Hmmm...?"

"Going to...stand there all day...like ice or...going to help?" The older man panted.

"O-oh." Dan stood and peeled the trench coat off of Rorschach, balling it up and then tugging at Rorschach's mask. The man held tight to it.

"No...not my...face." He pleaded. He sounded so desperate that Dan left it alone, taking his hat instead. He held them up. "See these?" He asked his partner.

"Yes." Rorschach bent over the toilet again.

"You're not to put these on until you're better."

"But —"

"I'm damn serious, you stubborn asshole."  
Daniel set both on the sink counter and stepped back. "Now I'm going to make you some tea to settle your stomach, and so help me god if I come back here and any of these items — any, including the mask — are back on, I'm gonna kick your sick, little ass."

"Must really care about me..." Rorschach gasped. "Never. Insulted my height before."

“Shut up...Walter.” Dan smirked as Rorschach immediately straightened, face livid under the fever.

“DANIEL.”


	2. Laurie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Laurie just wants someone to take care of her. She goes to Daniel's apartment, expecting nothing less than a night of rest and nostalgia. What she gets, is a little different. It's shorter than her. And wearing a black and white mask.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “The last person I want to take care of me is YOU, Rorschach.”
> 
> “Doesn’t look like...you can do it yourself.” The man observed, black splotches on his face shimmering and writhing, making Laurie dizzy.
> 
> “Well --”
> 
> “Can’t.”
> 
> Laurie looked up at the man, once presumed a sociopath. Her eyes were red-rimmed.
> 
> “You’re right.”

“Dan? Daniel, are you...oh god...” Laurie Juspeczyk stumbled into Daniel Dreiberg’s house, face pale. She was holding her stomach and trying her very hardest not to vomit. She heard something fall in the kitchen and her brow furrowed. This wasn’t like Dan.

“Daniel?” She walked into the kitchen, footsteps falling on the carpet silently, and as she stepped onto the linoleum a familiar figure was leaning against the sink, facing her.

“Rorschach? What in the hell are you doing here?” She asked. His mask was pulled up to free his mouth, and he was eating from a can of beans. The stench of the beans made her stomach turn.

“Just dropping in. Dan is out.” The shorter man replied. He frowned and cocked his head at Laurie as she coughed into her hand, clearing her throat.

“Well this is Dan’s house, not yours. Get out.”

“Not yours either.” Rorschach amended. He was still staring at her, she presumed, from where his face was pointing, and she couldn’t figure out why until his jaw clenched and she knew he knew.

“You’re sick.” He said. It wasn’t a question.

“No, I just...you know I always get sick when Jon teleports me.” She thought quickly.

“Heard the cab drive away.” Rorschach said. Laurie mentally facepalmed.

“No, you...well you know what, so what? What are you going to to about it, huh?” Laurie said. “Because I came here looking for Dan, not a snoop going through his cupboards and eating his food.” She blinked hard; her throat was hurting terribly, and she could have sworn there were two of Rorschach standing there just then…

“Get away from me, you --” Laurie watched as the man moved, intending to move towards her, and she tried to step away; the last thing she wanted was this creep touching her. But as she moved, the world seemed to tilt underneath her, and she stumbled. She braced herself, expecting her head to hit the floor, but it didn’t. She was in Rorschach’s arms.

“Get away from me...Don’t.” She slurred, trying to push his hand away but it rested on her forehead anyways. his glove was cool and dried the sweat from her brow.

“Burning up.”Rorschach said. He hadn’t pulled his mask down and she focused on his lips, his ginger stubble, as he lifted her and set her down on the closest thing he could find, the couch.

“Getting you a drink. Don’t move.” He warned her. Through the fevered veil, Laurie wondered why he was being so nice to her. This wasn’t very characteristic of sociopaths. Maybe he wasn’t one?

Don’t be stupid, she reminded herself. Look at him, you think he actually has the capacity to be caring?

“Rorschach?” She called groggily as the man was about to leave the room. She studied his ever-changing mask as he grunted his acknowledgement.

“Hmm?”

“I’ve always...hated...you.”

The smaller man grunted again, but the sound astonished her -- it sounded almost like a laugh, if she didn’t know him better. But Rorschach didn’t laugh.

Did he?

Laurie drifted off into feverish dreams.

When she awoke, there was a mug of tea sitting on the floor next to her hand, and a note scrawled in Sharpie.

WANT SOME BEANS?

The signature was the man's familiar double R, Rorschach test symbol, and Laurie found his awkward bedside manner almost comical.

"Awake." Rorschach grunted from the doorway. He pointed to the tea. "Drink. Help break fever." His mask swirled around quicker than usual, and Laurie realized this wasn't any more comfortable for him than it was for her. 

Still, she really didn't like him.

“The last person I want to take care of me is you, Rorschach.”

“Doesn’t look like...you can do it yourself.” The man observed, black splotches on his face shimmering and writhing, making Laurie dizzy.

“Well --”

“Can’t.”

They went on like this, arguing like children, for a good five minutes before Laurie looked up at the man, once presumed a sociopath. Her eyes were red-rimmed, and she was growing tired, both of this game and physically tired.

“You’re right.” she sighed.

"Can't take care of —" Rorschach scrutinized the woman and made one of his odd noises. "Hurm." He walked back into the kitchen and came out with a bowl of soup. Laurie's jaw actually dropped.

"You made...s-soup?" She sputtered.

The mask swirled around the man's cheeks, like a twisted sort of blush. "Microwaved." He said, holding the bowl out to her. As she sipped at the canned soup, she watched Rorschach intensely until she could tell he was getting even more uncomfortable. He turned and was about to get back to his beans, when Laurie called him back.

"Rorschach?"

"Hrrh?" He grunted.

"...You're...not as bad as I thought."

Rorschach's mask twisted in a way that seemed like he was either smiling, or grimacing. Probably the latter. "Let's not...make this...sappy." He said. Laurie ate the remnants of the soup and looked after the man as he retreated to Dan's kitchen.

"Thanks, Rorschach."


	3. Daniel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is no summary for this chapter...there is just a lot of Dan/Rorschach fluff. Like, so much. You have been warned.

"Rorschach...mmph...Rorschach..."

Rorschach was immediately aware of his name being called, standing suddenly frozen in the kitchen, where he'd come in through the window. He set down the can of beans he was about to eat, careful to not even tap the countertop soundly, and took his grappling hook out of his jacket, holding it at arm's length in case he needed to stab someone with it.

Again.

Dan's voice was mumbled and urgent. Rorschach steeled himself and walked into the bedroom, boots making no sound. From the way Dan's voice was, he sounded weak. Perhaps, Rorschach thought, he was losing a lot of blood. Or maybe...maybe...thoughts swam briefly through Rorschach's mind, thoughts that shouldn't have disturbed him, wouldn't have, if they'd been anyone else but his partner. The thoughts threw him off; he was suddenly clumsy, his elbow slamming into the dresser as he entered the room.

Dan was sleeping.

"Hurm." Rorschach cursed himself, heart pounding at his carelessness, and was about to go finish his beans and leave when Dan groaned and his eyes fluttered open.

"Rorschach? Uhh....Rorschach?"

Dan rubbed at his eyes and propped himself up on his elbows as his ex-partner froze, knowing he wouldn't get away now without Dan seeing. He gave a small grunt, and stood silent as Dan reached for his glasses and the bedside light. It illuminated the room.

"Rorschach...it was you...I was just...having a dream...about you..." Dan spoke groggily, words blurring into one another, and Rorschach's swirling mask betrayed his anxiety; Dan was pale and sweating, the only color on his face coming from two red blotches on his cheeks, the kind you get from a fever. His glasses were slightly askew, and despite his obvious ailment Rorschach realized that the sight of Dan, like this, was...the only word his mind was supplying was beautiful, and that was completely uncalled for.

"You are sick." The older man said, voice a little uncertain.

"I was running...a little fever when I went...to bed." Dan explained, half-asleep and borderline delirious. "Now...I..." He put a hand to his forehead and pulled it away, looking incredulous. "I'm burning up." He mumbled.

"I can see." Rorschach observed dryly. He stepped forwards a moment, encouraged by Dan's obvious obliviousness as to what he was doing at his house at this hour.

He must have jinxed it.

"What are you doing...in my house?" Dan forced out. He blinked and then slurred, "Both of you..." He closed his eyes and his elbows gave way, shaking at his sides as he collapsed onto his pillow again.

"Not important." Rorschach made another odd noise and finally stepped up to the side of Dan's bed, propping a pillow under the younger man's shoulders. "Need to cool down. Or else you overheat." He said, his stiff manner not relaxing.

"I feel...terrible." Dan only groaned, closing his eyes and trying not to vomit as Rorschach took a bucket, an ice pack, and a washcloth to him. He was too sick to notice, much less question, how Rorschach knew every nook and cranny of his apartment.

"Don't move." Rorschach pulled off his hat and set it on Dan's nightstand, wrapping the icepack in the washcloth and placing it on Dan's damp head. The man moaned as some of the heat was relieved.

"Rorschach...that's c-cold." Dan said. He shifted in bed.

"I know." The other man answered. Dan shifted again and suddenly shivered, which forced a repressed stab of worry through Rorschach; it was, after all, the middle of summer.

The two were silent for just a moment until Daniel's dilated eyes focused on the bucket Rorschach had brought.

"What's the bucket for?" He asked as his stomach grumbled, and he shivered again. Before he could even take a breath at the end of the sentence, Rorschach fluidly pushed the bucket into his shaking arms and Dan leaned over and vomited into it. Despite his apprehension at doing so, Rorschach reached out and held the icepack to Daniel's head as he convulsed. He also, softly, brushed the younger man's brunet hair back gently.

"Way too overheated." Rorschach said, voice not betraying his uncharacteristic tenderness. "Air conditioning?"

Dan shook his head weakly, still making horrible gagging noises that brought nothing up from his empty stomach.

"Humh." Rorschach left Dan groping for him weakly as he stood and walked to the kitchen and living room, opening up all the windows he could to get the miniscule breeze blowing through the house. He returned to the bedroom and opened the window there too, and saw with a grunt of approval that Dan seemed to be cooling down.

"Feel cooler?" He asked. Dan didn't answer at first, whole body shaking, and Rorschach set the bucket on the floor and resumed his stance of crouching at the edge of the bed.

Dan didn't answer. "Aren't you...hot in that...thing?" Dan asked Rorschach instead, gesturing weakly to his trench coat. Rorschach grunted.

"Fine."

"But I don't...want you to be...sick, like...me." Dan said. Rorschach tried to ignore him, but he quickly got tired of Dan's attempts at pulling his coat off with shaking hands, shrugging out of the fabric and throwing it onto the floor haphazardly.

"Well?" Rorschach asked, a little sarcastically despite his monotone voice.

"You're...you're...hot, Rorschach." This stopped Rorschach cold for a moment because he didn't know which kind of 'hot' Daniel meant — or which kind he hoped Dan meant. Before he could dwell on this more, however, Dan was in the clutches of his fever again, studying his striped bedsheets.

"These look...like hospital bedsheets...Rorschach." He murmured. He groaned, wiping his mouth with a hand and settling back under the sheet, which was the only blanket Rorschach was permitting him to have. "I feel like I should be...in the hospital."

"Don't be stupid." Rorschach muttered. "You're just sick. Fever. Not grave enough to be hospitalized."

"Are you...sure?" Dan breathed. He looked up at Rorschach and his brown eyes were paranoid.

Rorschach scoffed. "Positive." He said. He shifted and let his arm support his weight, setting his purple-gloved hand on the bed. Before he could move, Dan clasped his hand over the older man's. The effect was instantaneous; Rorschach went rigid, fist balling underneath Dan's fingers. His mask swirled and Dan realized later that Rorschach would have probably punched him, had he not been sick.

"What are you doing? Get off." Rorschach said, voice quiet but firm.

"Rorschach..." Dan was delirious again...or so Rorschach had initially thought. As he kept talking, though, the man was starting to suspect he was all too lucid.

"Don't, Daniel."

"No...Rorschach... What...what happened to us?" Dan asked. "We were partners...friends...you were okay."

Rorschach trembled with anger. "Wasn't ever okay. Was just...hiding it."

Dan snorted. "That's bullshit, Rorschach, and you know it. You were better. The nightmares —"

"Never bring that up. You said." Rorschach said. His mask was completely still, black spots centering around his mouth and brows. He was frowning.

"I know...but..." Daniel sighed. "Damn it, Rorschach...I liked touching you. I liked patting you on the back, or...or stealing your hat or taking your trench coat and hanging it up...this didn't bother you!" Dan moved his fingers so they were resting over Rorschach's. "What happened?"

"You —"

Dan coughed hard and raised his voice. "Don't give me that 'you quit' bullshit! I didn't quit! You went —"

Rorschach leapt from the bed, taking his hand from Dan's. He stood straight up, not moving a muscle, but his head was bent, avoiding Dan's gaze. "Going to say it?" He asked harshly. The black blots shifted a bit and Daniel could see the man's throat working. "Going to say I'm crazy?"

Dan coughed again. "Rorschach, I didn't mean..." He swallowed hard, heart heavy. He didn't expect Rorschach to be this offended — he didn't think Rorschach could be offended.

"I know what you meant." Rorschach said. He walked to the other end of the room, grabbed his hat and coat and was meaning to leave, only stopping as Dan jumped from the bed and grabbed his arm. It was trembling, he could feel it clearly without the thick trench coat material.

"Rorschach I didn't mean it. Please stay here..." Dan said. He swayed dizzily, having gotten up too fast, and he knew he was going to hit the floor. "Shit..." He said blearily as his legs gave way under him. He braced himself for the sudden impact.

None came.

Rorschach had one arm around his waist, holding him up. Dan was silent, shameful at what he'd just said, as Rorschach placed him on the edge of the bed and sat next to him.

"Last time you blew up at me...remember what I said?" Rorschach said. Dan was startled to recall the memory, and equally startled that Rorschach had brought it up.

"You said I was a good friend. You...you took my hand and said I was a good friend." His voice trailed to a whisper. "Those were good days. Not the best, but good."

"Still are. A good friend." Rorschach said. "Best I've ever had. Only one I've ever had." Like all those weeks ago, Rorschach held out his hand to Nite Owl, who grasped it without hesitation. This time, though, Dan didn't pull away. He pulled Rorschach closer to him, forcing the man to sit next to him.

"You're a good friend too." Dan said quietly. Rorschach's mask was shifting and swirling around his cheeks.

"Didn't used to be afraid..." Rorschach started. "You're right. Didn't used to be afraid of this..." He held up their hands and Dan looped his arm around Rorschach's shoulder. "Or this..." The other man used his gloved hand to push back and run his fingers through Daniel's hair. "Or this..." Rorschach pulled Dan closer and Dan had time to think, we've never done this before, before his lips met the cool fabric on his partner's mouth and he was kissing Rorschach, feeling his oddly gentle lips through the cloth. Reaching up, Dan grasped the neck of the mask and attempted to pull it up. Rorschach's hand stopped him, his lips drifting to Daniel's cheek for a moment.

"Don't want to get sick." He said.

Dan chuckled and just had time to moan a curse at Rorschach before their lips met again.


	4. Adrian (1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adrian is sick, and trying desperately to hide it. It's important for a man of his stature and intelligence to be in peak physical form all the time.
> 
> Dan is stubborn, and calling Veidt out on all his bullshit. It's important for a man like Adrian to accept some goddamned help every once in a while.

“Daniel.” Adrian started, standing from his chair to greet the bespectacled brunette at the door. Dan shook his hand warmly.

“Adrian. It's really...thanks for inviting me here. This place is amazing.” He said. Adrian motioned him over to the table and so Dan sat down there, even as Adrian remained standing. He had one hand pressed to his stomach and although Daniel noticed he didn't think much of it; they'd been crimefighting all week, and so it wasn't hard to assume he'd been hurt.

“Uh, I'm sorry I'm not wearing something more formal.” Dan said, as Adrian didn't speak. He motioned to Adrian's tailored suit. “I didn't know if we were going to eat dinner, or just...talk, or…”

“I'm not very hungry but we could order something if you like… I'm afraid I'm not much of a cook.” Adrian said. “And as to your clothes,” he said, brushing his blond hair back with his long, pale fingers, “They're fine. I think I dressed a little too warmly for this evening.” He unbuttoned the top of his pristine dress shirt and for a scary, embarrassing second Daniel thought Adrian might be trying to get with him.

Something tugged at Daniel's mind, a tendril of uneasiness. “You do look...smart.” He managed, trying not to show how hard he was thinking, trying to grab the thread of thought.

“Thank you.” Adrian said, coughing lightly.

“Is your stomach okay?” Daniel asked.  Adrian gave an odd expression, half relieved, half something else. Uncomfortable, maybe? Sheepish? Embarrassed? For the life of him Dan couldn't figure it out.

“It hurts a bit, but —”

“Who did it?” Dan asked.

“Pardon?” Adrian said after a pause. He looked confused now. Daniel couldn't figure out if this had to do with him or not.

Daniel motioned to Adrian's hand on his stomach. “Bruised?” He asked. “I mean, who did it? It happened on patrol, right?” He prompted.

“Oh.” Again, that weird relieved look. “It must have. I'm not quite sure which street gang it was.” he said.

“Show-off.” Dan said, giving a smile and trying to forget about Adrian's confusing mannerisms. Hell,  _ all  _ of Adrian's mannerisms were confusing.

“I'm not showing off.” Adrian said. He looked over at his kitchen, which was mainly for show. “Um, did you say you wanted to eat? Have you had dinner?” he asked.

“Are you concerned?” Daniel asked. “I'm far from thin, Adrian.”

“I like to know the team is running smoothly.” Adrian answered.

“Well I'm not hungry. So what are we going to do now?”

“Will you...excuse me?” Adrian said suddenly.

_ God, could Adrian get any more detached?  _ Dan asked as the blond left anyways.

Daniel heard a door closed, and he sat back in the chair, waiting for Adrian to come back. He'd never thought about Adrian's needs before, regular needs since he was, of course, a human. It barely seemed like it.

Suddenly it hit Daniel, like a smack to the face.

_ What the fuck _ !

He stood, feeling too antsy with his realizations to sit still. He'd pulled the thread at the back of his mind, he'd finally found the escaping thoughts, of which there were two.

First: it wasn't even remotely warm in here, even a little on the chilly side.

Second: Adrian never ran his hand through his hair. It was something he never, ever did. Probably something about not being anxious.

But he had today.

Daniel only had his speculations to go on. He had half mind to go confront Adrian about it when the man walked back into the room. He looked waxy, although Dan wasn't sure if he was that pale all the time or not, and he'd put his hair back into that pristine condition. He looked tired, Dan noted, now that he was paying more attention. There were dark circles under his eyes. Adrian was a stickler for looking handsome and perfect, all the time. That's what finalized Dan's speculations.

“How long is this gonna keep up?” Dan asked, getting up.

Adrian did his best to look surprised — it was a good attempt, for someone who was trying to hide a fever. “What are you talking about, Daniel?” He asked.

“Oh, come off it, Adrian. As much as you try to hide it you're human, like it or not.”

“I know I am, of course. There's nothing I can do about that.” Adrian said. He blinked with bloodshot blue eyes. “And why is that suddenly relevant?”

“Because you're  _ sick.  _ I can see it, Adrian.” Daniel said.

“I am  _ not,  _ Daniel. Just perhaps exhausted, and…a bit worn out.”

“Adrian, don't try to fucking hide it. You're not one hundred percent. I can see it.”

“I am not ill, Daniel.” Adrian retorted, eyes steely.

“Fine.” Daniel conceded. “Then I think I'm hungry. Will you have dinner with me?”

Adrian looked suspicious. “Daniel, why the sudden change of mind?” His question fell on deaf ears as Daniel took it upon himself to walk to the kitchen, grabbing a pristine, washed apple from a decorative basket on the white countertop and holding it up. His eyes were blazing.

“Eat it, Adrian.” He prompted.

“I'm not hungry.” Adrian protested.

“ _ Eat  _ it.”

Daniel glared as Adrian took the apple and gave it a small, experimental bite.

And then Adrian was vomiting in the sink and Daniel was laying a hand on his shaking shoulder, not saying anything but trying to indicate that he would help.

Adrian took a desperate breath and stood up, wiping his mouth with a dishcloth nearby, which till now had been folded perfectly and unused. His eyes were tired but he glared at Daniel intensely.

“Is this how you wanted the evening to go?” He asked, his German accent becoming more prominent as he no longer had the strength to pretend to be American.

“No, not ideally, but you didn't have to be so stubborn about admitting that you're sick.”

“Well I am not supposed to be ill. I should be able to combat most illnesses by now.” Adrian said.

“Most. Not all. It only takes a moment to get a germ.”

Adrian didn't look like he had any more to say, which was good because he doubled over again, another flood of food pouring from his mouth. A fine sheen of sweat covered his indeed waxy skin and Daniel waited until Adrian was gasping for air again before reaching over and putting his hand on the blonde's forehead.

“You're burning up.” Daniel said accusingly.

“I am...aware.” Adrian panted, wiping his mouth again and closing his eyes as another wave of nausea wracked him.

“You should...I don't know, change into something lighter.” Daniel said. Adrian shrugged out of his jacket, letting it fall to the floor in a crumpled heap that confirmed just how sick he was, and he looked down in distaste as he observed his tailored shirt nearly transparent with sweat. He unbuttoned it and let that fall to the ground as well, looking at Daniel’s astonished, borderline jealous expression. Slicked with sweat or not, Adrian really  _ was _ in perfect physical form.

“Daniel?” He asked, amused despite how ill he felt.

Daniel forced his gaze to rest on Adrian's pale face.

“Yeah… Sorry, uh…”

Adrian gave Daniel a look. “If you're distracted, I'll have to take care of myself.” He said, voice miffed. He pushed away from the sink and took a few steps, falling to the floor as the room tilted around him. He closed his eyes; it didn't help much.

What did help was Daniel taking his arm, pulling him to his feet and supporting him.

“Can't you let me be undignified alone?” Adrian asked.

“So that's what this is about. Being undignified.” Daniel said. Finally, he'd gotten Adrian to admit it.

Adrian went a bit pink. “I'm supposed to be —”

“Look, I don't care what you're supposed to be.” Daniel said, winding his arm around Adrian more securely as he helped him to the pristine — what a surprise — couch. “I'm sure not even...not even the President looks dignified while he's sick.” Adrian looked down, dejected.

“I suppose you have a point.” He said. Daniel touched Adrian lightly on the shoulder, catching his blue gaze.

“But you sure did a damn good job of pulling it off.” He said. Adrian gave a small smirk.

“Thank you, Daniel, but —” he wrapped his arms around his stomach. “But you should be going. I can take care of myself.”

Daniel crossed his arms and sat on the couch opposite Adrian, eyes hard. “Not a chance, Adrian, so don't start.”

“I'm —”

Daniel interrupted once again, earning a practiced glare from the blond. “If you say you're fine one more time, I'll take you for a ride in ARCHIE and see how long you're fine.” He said, the conviction of the promise clear in his voice.

Adrian groaned and leaned back on the couch, pressing his face to the soft fabric. It was going to be a long night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I could probably write a second part to this one, but I'm not sure. What do you guys think?


	5. Adrian (2)

“Okay, Adrian. Kitchen is off-limits for puking.” Dan walked out of the kitchen, having courteously cleaned the sink back to its original spotless condition, and took his spot on the couch. Adrian was lying on his back, one hand crooked under his head, the other balled to his stomach. He looked as if he were seasick, although the room was as flat and as still as possible.

“Could it have been food poisoning?” Daniel asked, brows furrowing at the clear pain his friend was in.

Adrian's delicate eyelids flickered open, his blue eyes taking a moment to become focused. “I don't believe so.”

“A stomach bug, then. A regular, _human_ illness.”

Adrian raised himself on his elbows to protest, swallowed hard, and settled back down.

“You really hate being reminded that you're human, don't you?” Daniel wondered. Adrian sighed.

“I…” his perfect brows furrowed. “I just hate being...inferior, I suppose.”

 _“_ That's called a god complex.” Dan said, unable to stop the words from spilling from his lips. “And... _and_.” he continued quickly, before Adrian could defend himself. “And you're just going to have to deal with it until you're well.”

“Daniel, this is unnecessary.” Came the expected answer.

“Your stubborn ass is unnecessary.” Daniel retorted.

“Are you being defensive because you're concerned?” Adrian wondered. Daniel stood from the couch, indignant.

“I can't _believe_ you're sick and you're going to try and psychoanalyze me!”

“Just...repaying the favor.” Adrian said. “So are you? Concerned?”

Daniel flushed and his throat worked for a moment before he answered. “Maybe I'm just trying to be a nice person. Maybe I think that under that gold and purple exterior you don't want to be left alone.”

Neither of them proved or disproved the others’ theory. They were just silent, thinking whatever they wished about each other.

Both wondered if they were correct.

Daniel broke the tense silence first. “I've never been, um, out of the dining room before, Adrian. He started. “So, um, I need a garbage can, a washcloth...some blankets, unless you're going to chance the move to your room…” he listed off, unconsciously counting off on his fingers.

“Don’t tell me you're going to baby me. Mother bird.” Adrian griped. The nickname startled a laugh out of Dan despite the tension in the air.

“Look at that. A sense of humor.” He replied. “Where's the stuff?”

Reluctantly, Adrian gave him directions. Daniel walked tentatively down the pristine corridor to find the things he needed to aid Adrian. Most, he was only half-surprised to find, were stuffed in a closet covered in dust, for example the garbage can and the downy blankets. The washcloth was the softest stuff Dan had ever felt.

“You really go through this much? All to seem inhuman?”

“I’ve never felt akin to the normal human race.” Adrian said back. “As I stated in one of my interviews.”

“Well, good for you.” It was impossible to hide the bitter tone in Daniel's voice.

“You don't watch them.” It wasn't a question but a statement.

“No, Adrian.” Daniel said, walking back to the couch and setting the garbage can on the ground near Adrian's head. “I think...I don't know. This is too...too much. Too gaudy. Showmanlike.” he said. Adrian's eyebrows twitched in surprise.

“This is barren.” He motioned around his apartment. “Most of the money went to useful places, like your large sum.”

Daniel looked around at the apartment. “This apartment just serves to show the  world how removed you are from it, Veidt. So do the fancy suits and the technology and...Bubastis…” he looked around, as if expecting the Lynx hybrid to come around the corner at any minute.

“Wh-where is she?”

“Locked her up. She's fine for days.”

“Oh.” Daniel said, and then continued. “And as for my money, the large sum…” he snorted derisively. “It doesn't matter to me. I don't do much with it, only use it for experiments. I don't... we're just parts of different worlds.”

“And yet here we are. Together.”

There was a silence, and neither of them could determine whether it was uncomfortable or not. When Daniel spoke, he sounded weary.

“Were you ever...human?” he asked quietly. Adrian’s eyes, which had been closed, snapped open. The question had startled him. His blue eyes were calculating.

“I thought you said I am.” he said. He was ducking the question, and he knew Daniel knew. “You said I was... _just_ a human.” The derision was clear in his voice.

“I...I don’t know if I meant what I said. Damn it, I...” Daniel looked apologetic. “Sometimes I look at you and I feel like you could let the world die and...and not even blink. Sometimes there’s nothing...human in your eyes.” He really meant to stop his mouth, to stop talking, just shut _up,_  for fuck’s sake, but the words came out regardless. He’d been swallowing his emotions for far too long for his mouth to obey him now.

“I think sometimes the reason I tell you you’re human all the time is to reassure myself that you are.”

Adrian’s sapphire eyes were wide, but far from angered or cold they looked shell-shocked, astonished.

“Does it work?” he whispered.

“No.”

 

* * *

 

Adrian looked queasier than ever, and he leaned over the side of the couch, grabbing the garbage can and vomiting into it. His already-porcelain knuckles were even whiter, gripping the sides of the can as hard as he could, hard enough that icicles of pain shot through his fingers when he was done. Daniel looked apologetic.

“Shit. I’m sorry, Adrian.” he said. Adrian wiped his mouth and held up a hand to silence the other man.

“No. Daniel...I...I know I’ll never be like you. Or like any other human. That’s not how I...how I was born.”

“I’m sure you don’t like hearing it, though. Especially with how sick you are.”

As apologetic as Dan may have been, it was the wrong choice of words. Adrian sat up quickly, arms gripping his midsection.

“It’s _just_ a _cold,_ Daniel. In fact, I feel better.” he said.

Daniel leaned against the wall. He looked exhausted and halfway defeated. Rubbing his eyes with a hand, he sighed.

“Thank you for your help, Daniel. But I think the illness has passed.” Adrian swung his legs off the couch and started to stand. Daniel watched with a mild interest, wondering if somehow Adrian’s immune system could heal illness that quickly, as the blonde rose and started walking towards his bedroom. Five steps away from the couch, however, he fell to the ground, stomach wrenching.

“You almost had me believing you, you bastard.” Daniel said, kneeling next to Adrian and pulling the garbage can over to him.

“Are you going to be sick?” he asked. Adrian shook his head no, subsequently vomiting into the can. Daniel looked down suddenly, surprised; Adrian had shifted, leaning forwards and accidentally placing his hand on Daniel’s.

The brunette supposed it was just the muscle spasms that were causing the blonde to grip his hand tightly.

  
Right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since a lot of you said you'd like to see me continue this mini-sickfic, I did! Your wish is my command, as always! I hope you enjoyed this next chapter!


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